


What Makes A Good Man

by Aurora Cee (SC182)



Series: We Living No Limits [2]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 12:15:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4137177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SC182/pseuds/Aurora%20Cee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A happier time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Makes A Good Man

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters herein.
> 
> A/N: This Modern AU will merge events of Spartacus: War of The Damned with many of the overarching plot points of Sons of Anarchy. So as it stands, there will eventually be sex, blood, violence, angst, and high levels of badassery. So nothing new for Spartacus or SOA fans. 
> 
> A/N: Ficlet events occur before[Got These Burdens Under My Wings (But I'm Still Free)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1138963)

Naevia’s man was a good man. People knew him as a serious and sour man, but with her? He was passion and deliberately searched words to describe his love for her. She was his sun, his moon and his stars. Her name was tattooed onto his chest and those words— _sun, moon, and stars_ —circled it like cosmic bodies in a reverent galaxy, alone among constellations dedicated to brothers and blood.

He sang her his Cajun songs. Warbled out lulling odes to her--his eternal Evangeline, the only sign he’d ever need to bring him back home.

She’d feared that she wouldn’t be able to give him a child. After everything. But when she knew—knew for sure that she was pregnant with a few precious weeks secure in her womb, she found that she didn’t have the words to tell him. So she told him with a touch.

Just took one of those large, calloused hands and lay it across her belly, flat like the lands of Capua Proper, and gazed up at her man, daring him to feel the pulse of life that dwelled inside her. The soft bend in her smile was clue enough for him to understand, and then his hand trembled over her.

“Naevia…” Crixus uttered in a whisper. “Are you? Is that? Tell me please?” The force of the sun shone through his eyes when he looked at her.

She overtook his hand with hers and knitted their fingers together, weaving a protective nest that would shield this child from the blood and dust this world had to offer.

So, Naevia nodded once, “We have done the impossible. Finally something good is ours. Something better than this world has ever given us is ours.”  She said, squeezing his hand. “We made this, Crixus. You and me.”

Her man, with the strength to churn gravel to dust and oil to fire, pressed a small kiss to her forehead and rested his head there for a fleeting moment. Then drifted down to her lips, drinking in her touch with meticulous sips, like Naevia’s lips were made of the finest wine that he’d be a fool not to savor.

He collapsed to his knees on the stubborn concrete, the force reverbing beneath Naevia’s feet, and bowed forward until he was pressed gently against her, still and silent in communion with their miracle. His black cut whined softly with each brush.

Crixus cradled her hips while pressing his nose deeper into the fabric of her dress, inhaling her scent and sighing over the mild wind. His Brothers could wait. Would wait until he had his fill of this moment.

“Most of my life has been shit—swamp shit rollin’ off the Mississippi, hard shit scratchin’ to survive the cold bars and hard floors of somebody’s jail, bloody shit livin’ in this fuckin’ town…But none’a it matters now. Because I have you and I have dis,” he declared with kiss to her belly. “My goddess.”

The tears that spilled from the corner of her eyes bled into her smile. Her man—a god on two wheels—had often wondered what he had done to have the love of such a woman as she, and her answer, colored by the peaceful desert rains, endless rides with wind whipping over her skin, and blood spilled to pay debts of pain and honor, was that no other man ever could.He


End file.
